


C-SEC

by imbetteronpaperattwointhemorning



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Asari - Freeform, C-Sec, Crime, Detectives, Elcor, Fugitive, Gen, Hunt, Intrigue, Mass Effect 2, Murder, Secrets, Shakarian - Freeform, eventual garrus, eventual shepard, volus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-04
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-05-18 04:03:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5897539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imbetteronpaperattwointhemorning/pseuds/imbetteronpaperattwointhemorning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A chase through the Citadel does not end well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Fall

**Author's Note:**

> Who is this guy? What was he selling? Who was chasing him?
> 
> All answers come in good time. 
> 
> This is the first of a series. Next chapter we meet our two detectives and they make an unlikely ally.
> 
> Heads Up: In this series, the world state is one where a female Shepard is romancing Garrus. Additionally, Kaidan was saved and Ashley died after the events of the first game. Both Garrus and Shepard will make a cameo as well as some other key figures from the game series. However, for the first two chapters every character featured is original.
> 
> Thank you for reading!

_Round the corner, and you’ll be out of the warehouse,_ he reasoned. He could lose her in the crowded market. She would not get a clear shot there and would not risk missing. A shot in the markets would alert C-Sec to her presence.

The Wards always reminded him of Vegas, the color, the light. He was in the dimmer sections now, where there were back alleys and dirt laden dark streets where all manner of deals and merchandise passed hands. He felt the seedy pull of somewhere familiar. The Wards were home. He needed that level of familiarity now to outpace her. She was a stranger here. He intended to use the familiar streets to cage her. He could trap her in the usual corners that are only known to him and others who dealt with things that no person should possess let alone sell. 

 _All I need is a head start, even just a little,_ he bounded up the steps, taking two at a time. He could hear her heavy footfalls behind him then the rustle of armor as a pistol was pulled from its holster.

_A shot._

A bullet ricocheted off a wall as he made a right turn past it, the plaster left flecks of white on his left shoulder. Her hesitation to fire delayed her enough to give him a slight advantage of a few extra seconds precious life-giving distance between her and himself. The few seconds could save his life.

He ran down through the markets, shoved past an irate Volus and slid under a sluggish Elcor. He stole a glance over his shoulder; he watched her leap over the Volus, her boots hit the floor with a hard _thud_. He leaned himself forward ducking down an empty side street. He willed his tired legs ahead, taking ragged gasps of air. He could not discern whether his lack of breath was nerves or years of off-duty inactivity. 

“Surprised Anger: Human, you violated my physical space!” The Elcor’s monotone drone soon became nothing, but a faint wilt in the distance. He could hear her curse the great gray alien sloth. 

“I need someone to pick me up. I need cover!” He panted into his communicator. His armor felt heavy, and his legs began to cramp. He did not hear her but still felt death was upon him.

A voice chimed in from the communicator, cool and calm. “Take the alley to your left past the Asari’s trinket shop; there’s a tower under construction, get to the penthouse floor.”

The feeling of fire overcame his side. His pain struck him before he could even hear the shot. She had caught up with him and shot a round. The wound stung. His breathed hitched. He tasted blood. He slowed his pace. They were in the Wards in the middle of an alley.

 _Could I die here, for this?_ He began to panic.

Ahead of him a few paces he could see the Asari’s shop. The store was full of eager buyers; a sale had caused a rush. He could hear Commander Shepard’s ad, “I’m Commander Shepard, and this is my favorite shop on the Citadel.”

He removed his pistol and fired a shot past the merchant’s head. Chaos erupted as the patrons fled the store. As they panicked to find safety, a Volus and his Asari companion crashed into two Turians and a Salarian. In the chaos, the group shifted out of the shop into the walkway. He slipped into the crowd. She could not fire into it.

Two Turian C-Sec officers responded to the shots: one with red facial markings made his way toward the Asari shopkeeper and the other with purple facial markings scanned the confused mass of crowd like a Collie herding sheep.

 _They’re looking for her._ The realization was not comforting, if they had not found her yet, she could still find him.

The crowd shifted forward in the chaos. He heard grumbled protests and frightened shrieks. The Turian’s voice hummed over the high pitched notes of the crowd’s squawking. When the mass of confused patrons, streamed across the street following its flanging command, he used the opportunity to slip across the street into the tower as instructed.

The stinging pain subsided. He began to feel numb and dizzy. He pressed his hand to his left side, the pressure he applied to stop the bleeding made him whelp. The sharp burn left him disorientated. He limped into the tower’s elevator and pressed the highest number he could find. The elevator began to ascend. 

The music was mechanical and generic, a series of random beeps and bops. The sounds were the same across the entire Citadel in every elevator. The familiarity was comforting.

 _Bang. Bang. Bang._ The sound of her boots hitting the other side of the elevator’s roof.

 _“_ Goddamn biotics!” he cursed. He coughed. The pain intensified with the spasm of his muscles.

The lights flickered. The main bright neon light on the roof of the elevator extinguished leaving the violet LEDs that decorated the elevator floor. The small confined space had a soft violet colored hue. He waited for death, for her, or for rescue. He did not know which. The elevator halted. Perhaps, they were saving him as promised. He turned on his communicator.

“Hello, this is—“ 

“I know who it is. Get out of the elevator.” The voice was stern. 

The doors to the elevator sprung open. He limped out into the semi-darkness. The large unfinished floor was not furnished. He leaned against a nearby pillar. His breath came in short heaves. 

“To the window.” The voice instructed him.

He approached the large glass pane. He could see the entire Citadel from there. The violet, red, and yellow jewels, millions of lights, beacons of the homes and millions of aliens and human’s alike. It reminded him of the night sky on Earth.

“What do I do now?” His sharp pain had returned. His knees buckled, and he pressed one hand against the glass and the other to his wounded side. 

“Die.” The voice instructed. 

He hit the glass in front of him with his fist. He heard the delicate step of his pursuer behind him. He turned to meet her. He went to draw his weapon, but the movement caused another shot of pain down his side. He only turned and fell back against the window.

“What did your little friend tell you?” She teased as she emerged from the darkness.

“They’re coming for me.” He lied. He hoped she could be persuaded to leave.

“No, I don’t think they are.” She came a few steps closer. She drew a shotgun from her back. 

“You won’t find it you know. You won’t find any of them.” He coughed. He covered his mouth then withdrew his hand to find it spattered with blood.

“So you kept saying.” She looked past him toward the city. “That’s a beautiful view. Looks like a long way down.” She aimed her shot steady toward him.

His heart began to race again. With each beat, he felt his side ooze more. He was overcome with an eerie warmth. He began to get tired. He started to shake unsure if it was blood loss or panic.

“Y-y-you’ll pay for this.” He sputtered.

She hesitated for a moment, tilting her head to the side. She studied him awhile as a cat does when toying with its prey. Her amused. His breath slowing. The muffled sound of the city below them. The silence of his communicator. He closed his eyes. She pulled the trigger. He felt the glass behind him shatter. She had not hit him.

 “I won’t pay for this. You can’t pay for something that’s already yours.” She kicked him in the stomach. The blow was as if she had wretched his intestines from his body and wrung them in her hands. He felt the air whiz past his face, the sound of the wind, the sound of pedestrians gasping, and, finally, silence.

 


	2. Adrestia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Turian patrol officer attempts to clean up a mess in the market and a human patrol officer diffuses a high tense situation.

Hadrian outstretched a tallowed hand. His gestures precise and fluid. He manipulated the crowd into its proper place. He took pride in his work and the efficiency with which he orchestrated the huddled mass of strangers. They listened to C-Sec. They listened to him. At the very least they listened to the threat of force that his rifle implied through it’s mere existence.

Suddenly, the floor beneath his feet was slick. He looked down to see a puddle of scarlet red liquid. _Human blood_ , he examined the viscous red smear on the Citadel’s pristine white floor. Some human was injured and bleeding. _Disorder and chaos_ , he thought. Hadrian considered the floor around him. Smears and footprints written in blood leading across the street. He waved over to Octavian.

“The shooter hit one target. Looks like there is a trail.” Hadrian gestured to the stray drops by his feet and the few boot prints stamped in blood ahead of him.

Octavian examined the puddle casually. He shook his head. “Soft, vulnerable humans.” His mandibles flailed in annoyance. Most violence on the Citadel involves Humans and Krogans. "Filthy, meat sacks.” Octavian hissed.

“We should follow the trail.” Hadrian asserted. “Human failing aside, C-Sec is order.” Hadrian rebutted an argument that had not yet been made with pure Turian policy. He bent down to examine the footprints. He hoped he could find a brand name on the bottom of the boots. The marks showed that the boots had thick treading. Most human Alliance boots had chunky soles. He had heard a human C-Sec officer say it was because of the way gravity worked on Earth. Hadrian looked up to Octavian. He hoped the pause had given Octavian perspective. Octavian’s began to walk away.  

“We stay with the crowd.” Octavian was forceful. “One human injured isn’t worth a whole group.” His back to Octavian as he went toward the shaken Asari shop keeper. “Ask some members of the crowd if they saw anything.”

“But—“ Hadrian stood.

“Talk. To. The. Witnesses.” Hadrian watched as Octavian wandered into the distance. He stood and let out a low growl himself. He was tired of C-Sec, but even more tired of Octavian.

Hadrian approached a Volus who was pacing up and down the pale pavement. The Volus’ Asari companion watched him. Her hundred years of cultivated politeness had provided her the restraint to listen to her companion pant out complaints as he waddled back and forth in front of her.                                      

“How long do we have to stay here?” The Volus stated. The hiss and pops of his suit’s breathing feature punctuating every syllable. 

“Let me just get your statement and then you are free to go. We have to work our way through the crowd.” Hadrian fought the urge to blast the small grey nuisance of a creature into oblivion.

“Fine. I saw nothing.” The Volus faced away from Hadrian

 _Spirits give me patience,_ Hadrian’s mandibles quivered. He tried to think of something polite to say.

“We did see something dearest.” His Asari companion touched his shoulder. As usual, Asari’s were a race to be reasoned with. Hadrian admired her fringe as she spoke. He knew she probably looked different to the Volus, but to him she was beautiful.

“A human man. Injured. He ran past us toward that tower.” She pointed toward the buildings. He gazed up at the windows. A window shattered and another pop. Soon, a figure fell from it fast approaching the floor beneath.

“Move off that pavement now!” Hadrian growled at the group of potential witnesses near the tower. They scattered like roaches when the glass hit the floor. Time slowed or perhaps adrenaline kicked in. All he heard was the sound of human bone meeting pavement.

…

They were off the floor in an Afterlife back room. The dimly light room wrecked of alien libations, strange bodily fluids, and stale human beer. Pafna and Charrin were a few paces from her, yet Mritsa felt as if they were oppressively violating her personal space.

“Do not move. Too slow. Right. Right, I was.” The Salarian held a gun firm to the Volus’ temple. 

“Earth Clan, you better have a plan!” The Volus stiffened.

"Pafna you're the worst business man. How do Volus keep a savvy business reputation with you stinking it up all the time?" Mritsa strapped her handgun to the holster at her waist. "What have you done now?"

"We should kill the bad Volus. Public service.” Pafna’s suit let out a loud pop in response to Charrin's words. “Pafna is quiet. Hm. I wonder. What color is Volus blood? Probably should run an experiment and check.” The Salarian pushed the gun harder into Pafna’s helmet.

"What did you do?" Mritsa asked again.

"Charrin can be unreasonable for a Salarian. This is him being unreasonable. It's the drugs." Pafna hissed. Mritsa rubbed her temples. Her back ached, and her patience was draining. She felt the air heat up around her.

"Charrin is behaving justly as Pafna should." Charrin hit Pafna's helmet with the butt of the gun.

Mritsa rubbed her temples again. _I could throw him?_ She reasoned. _I could end this now and send him up toward the sky in a cloud of blue biotics and go home to a hot bath._

“Pafna what did you do?” Mritsa ran her hands through her dark hair. The sweat had beaded at her brow. She did not know if it was the thickness of her suit or the biotic implant acting up. She could swear she ran warmer since she got it.

“Me? I’m innocent. I did nothing—”

“Lies. Volus knows. My trade route. Buy drugs. Does not pay. Never pays on time.” 

“He’s somewhere else.” Pafna struggled a little in Charrin’s arms. Charrin’s large eyes blinked. He let out a short laugh. Mritsa examined his large eyes again. They were beady black and lifeless. In the dark they had a sinister quality, they picked up the soft glow of the small back room’s interior lights reflecting back the barest amount of the room’s interior. The world reflected in Charrin’s eyes were merely shadows of his surroundings. Mrista gazed at them long hoping to discern what message his mind took from them.

“No. Pafna hired me to make drugs. They started selling well. Pafna did not pay up. So. _Boom.”_ Charrin mimicked the sound of the blaster. Mritsa wondered how long Pafna would persist in lying to her. _Would Pafna actually die to stay on the Citadel?_ Mritsa hesitated to fully think it over. Pafna was the type that would.

“Lies!” Pafna shrieked.

“True.” Mritsa examined Pafna’s faceless helmet. Mritsa had covered for Pafna one time and now she would never be rid of the small swindler. _You do a nice thing for a nice things sake and this is where it gets you_ , she thought.

“I have half a mind to let him get you.” Mritsa kneeled down to be eye level with the Volus.

“This is how you treat an old friend.”

 “This is how I treat a bad business man.” Mritsa stood up. Charrin seemed amused.

“Should listen to the human. Sensible. Smart. For a human.” Charrin seemed to approve. For the first time during the conversation he moved the gun away from Pafna’s head. 

“Aren’t you busy trying to kill me?” Pafna seemed more amused than frightened now.

“Pay him it’s cheaper than the funeral costs.” Mritsa starred at him.

“Fine. Fine. Fine!” Pafna shivered. Mritsa smirked. Charrin released Pafna.Charrin shook his wrists out. _Always stretch before you take a hostage,_ Mritsa thought _. Such an amateur_.

“Arms are sore. Holding someone at gun point is trying.”Charrin shook out his arms. Pafna reached into his boot and removed a card. 

“Here. It has the money on it. Get out of my sight!” Pafna shoved the card into Charrin’s hand.

“First, I want the gun.” Mritsa extended her hand. Charrin placed the blaster into her hand. He looked at her for a moment. His big eyes blinking three or four times. She nodded at him. He darted off out of the room.

“Didn’t want to test his luck. You know they don’t lie.” Pafna laughed. 

“Did that have money on it?” Mritsa turned to Pafna.

“Does that really have ammo in it?” Pafna patted his suit down. He took a few minutes to adjust the pipes in his helmet.

Mritsa checked the gun. The barrel was dark. She touched the inside notch. As she suspected, she felt the familiar carving that all of Pafna’s merchandise was embossed with.

“No, but he didn’t know that. Now he thinks he’s won. He has nothing.” Mritsa threw the gun to the floor.

“Well, that’s not entirely accurate. That card had 4200 credit chits on it.” Pafna gestured toward the door.

 “You had to give him something. If he left empty handed the next gun would have ammo in it.” Mritsa began to walk away.

“Thank you.” Pafna shouted toward Mritsa. Mritsa waved his gratitude away.

 “You’re lucky it was me and not a Turian.” Mritsa heard a slight buzz.

She was being summoned to C-Sec. _Perfect, my head already hurts._ Mritsa shook her head. She opened the door to leave and was greeted by the thumping music of the club. The smell of sin and decadence that permeated the backroom was as pungent outside of it.  _Home,_ she thought. She mixed into the crowd on her way to the double doors of the entrance. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two new characters yay! Sorry, this chapter is so slow going. The pace is going to pick up immensely in the next two chapters. Also, Shepard and Garrus. :D
> 
> Also, I am done with my first year of law school! Excited on all fronts today!
> 
> As per usual, thank you for reading! Comments are always welcome! I don't bite I just write.


End file.
